


Thirteen Hours

by Katybug1992



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternative Universe - CIA, Alternative universe - Spies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 17:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17965004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katybug1992/pseuds/Katybug1992
Summary: Racer is the CIA leading expert on the Middle East.  When he gets wind of an impending coup, he works to try to put an end to it.





	Thirteen Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Idea loosely based on the first season of "Madame Secretary".
> 
> I might make a series of one shots in this universe.

Spot felt the eyes following him and rolled his eyes. Sure, it was rare that he was in this part of the building, but his husband had worked over here for years so it wasn’t that crazy.

“Conlon,” Albert nodded before turning back to face the screen where he was monitoring a mission.

“Da Silva.” Spot replied, coming to stand next to him, “Any word?”

“None.” Albert replied, “Racer entered the President’s home about an hour ago.”

“They know who he is?” Spot took a seat.

“Officially? He’s an upper level State Department official,” Albert responded, eyes not moving from the screen, “But, yes, the President and his top intelligence agents and generals have been informed that he’s our top expert on the Middle East. Racer insisted that it was the only way to prove to them that the US was not behind the pending coup.”

“I can’t believe you let him go into Iran knowing what is going happen.” Spot growled.

“Well, we’re hoping to stop it from happening and Race is our top expert on the region.” Albert shot back, “I tried to talk him out of it. Especially when he handed me The Box.”

Spot didn’t respond. The Box was an ornate wooden box that Race and Albert gave each other when going into a mission that they weren’t sure they would make it back from. It had only traded hands three times in their careers in the CIA, this was the second time it was handed to Albert.

Race and Albert had been friends since college, both of them poli-sci majors, with specialization in International Relations. They decided to join the CIA together and quickly rose through the ranks. Race becoming the youngest expert in The Company in history. Whenever one of them went on a mission, the other was monitoring the mission.

Spot first met Race when he got called in to save his ass. Race had gotten himself captured in Egypt and Spot, who had been a rising star on the Africa desk, had been sent to retrieve him. It turned out he wasn’t needed. When he got to the bunker the blonde was being held in, he found Racer arguing loudly with his capturers in Arabic, all while getting out of his bindings. Spot dropped a smoke bomb to provide the needed distraction and met Racer outside. It wasn’t the cutest meeting, but it was perfect for them.

He was shaken out of his thoughts when an explosion showed on the screen.

“RACER!!” Albert shouted into his headset.

“Come on, Tony,” Spot muttered to himself, “Come on.”

The two kept their eyes focused on on the screen as the rest of the team entered the room.

“Racer burned his phone.” Romeo spoke first. Albert cursed under his breath. When an agent burned their phone, it didn’t just burn the sim card. Before the card was burned, an encoded message was sent out to all the contacts in the phone, which would normally be assets and other agents in the area in Racer’s case, as well as to Command Center at Langley. Once the message was sent, the sim card would burn and phone itself would self destruct.

“Communications for the entire country will be down within the next thirty minutes, if that.” Jack spoke up, entering the room, “Do we know his status?”

“We don’t know anything.” Albert replied, voice low, “We won’t know until he’s able to reach out to us….if he’s able.”

“He’s gotten out of these situations before.” Finch spoke up, attempting to calm everyone’s nerves.

“Exploding buildings are one thing.” Spot replied, “A coup? That’s a whole other monster. They wanted to take out the president and his top advisors. Whoever set that explosion, there would be people on the ground who would have swarmed the building and started killing.”

When everyone turned to look at him, he sighed, “I’ve overseen a couple of coups and coup attempts over the years. All we can do is wait for Tony to reach out.”

“I hate the waiting game.” Albert replied, “I’ve played it way too many times with him.”

“He was supposed to be done with ground-work.” Spot replied, “He and I made an agreement.”

“You were the first to break it.” Albert replied, “You don’t think he noticed you slipping off to Somalia?”

“It’s hard to give it up.” Spot replied, “More so for him. Whether I like it or not, he is the leading expert on the Middle East and they’re going to keep needing him. I just wish that it could have been someone else this time.”

“He’s always going to follow the call.” Albert replied, “I couldn’t convince him not to, you wouldn’t be able to either. He’s a rare brand in this line of work. He took in all the facts and he knew that, in the long run, this coup would do more damage than good.”

“God, I hate that about him.” Spot sighed, he and Albert chuckling softly to themselves.

“Incoming call!” Romeo alerted them.

“Racer!” Albert answered the line, putting the video feed up.

“Hey, Red.” Race’s voice was fond, “Spottie.”

“You okay?” Spot stepped closer to the screen, taking in Race’s appearance. He was a little cut up and maybe bruised, it was hard to tell in the dark lighting.

“Yeah.” Race nodded, “The bomb hit and I was told to come with them. We’re in a bunker and I don’t have a lot of time, Comms will be down shortly. I’ve let my guys know to get out if they can. I’ll touch base when its safe.”

“Be safe.” Albert responded.

“Racer,” Spot’s voice was hard, but desperate, as he continued, “you need to come back to me.”

“I love you, Spottie.” Race replied, “Au revoir.”

“I love you, too.” Spot replied.

The screen went dark once more and Albert hung up.

“What’d he say?” Albert turned to Spot, “Stop. I know the French translation, what’s the Tony translation?”

“He’s heading for Paris.” Spot replied, “You got anything?”

“Thirteen hours.” Albert replied.

“What?” David looked confused, “He didn’t say anything like that.”

“He has specials codes. With Spot, it’s languages and phrases, and with me it’s more sentence structure, a little more subtle.” Albert replied.

“Can he make it Paris in thirteen hours?” Katherine asked, giving them a skeptical look, “Airports will be shut down”.

“You’re obviously new here.” Spot replied, “Yeah, he can make it. Knowing him, he had dozens of contingency plans and then at least three contingency plans for everyone of those.”

“He’ll be okay.” Jack attempted to assure everyone, “He’s one of the best.”

“Even the best fall down sometimes,” Albert replied, ignoring the teams’ shocked expression, 

“Conlon, if we don’t hear from him in thirteen hours, I’m going in after him.”

“You and me, both.” Spot replied, standing up and heading to the super-computer and inserting a small thumb-drive and typing quickly, only stopping when a blinking dot appeared on the screen. Typing two quick access codes, and a couple charts appeared on the screen, “Got his location and his vitals.”

“You have that?” Jack asked, eyes wide.

“We both had the trackers put in our wedding bands.” Spot replied, “Just in case.”

The room fell silent again, Spot’s eyes trained on the screen in front of him.

 

Exactly thirteen hours later, a call came through the video feed, waking both Albert and Spot from their uneasy sleep. Albert answered the call to see Race sitting in a well lit room with a cup of coffee in hand, making the many scrapes and bruises prevalent.

“Race.” Albert let out a breath of relief, seeing his best friend’s face, “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” Race huffed out a laugh, “How you doin’, Spottie?”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight for the foreseeable future.” Spot replied, taking in his husband’s face, voice full of the emotion he tried to hard to suppress.

“Where are you?” Albert asked, trying to place the room.

“American Embassy in Paris.” Race took a drag of his coffee, “The Ambassador is arranging diplomatic protection from the minute I leave this building to the minute I board the plane. I’ll be home late tonight.”

“He getting you medical care?” Spot asked, taking in the shotty rushed stitches that Racer had obviously done himself.

“And a hot shower.” Race grinned, “I insisted on calling in first.”

“MIlitary transport?” Albert asked.

“Flying in direct to Langley.” Racer nodded, “Debriefing right away.”

“We’ll be here when you land.” Albert replied, challenging Racer to argue with him.

“Get some sleep in between, guys.” Racer laughed, already knowing asking them to go home was going to be moot.

“Get cleaned up.” Spot spoke up, “Then call me.”

“Love you, Sean.” Racer’s face was soft and fond as he felt himself begin to truly relax for the first time since he started preparing for his mission.

“To the moon, Tony.” Spot finished, ending the call.

“Guys,” Jack came into the room, flipping on CNN to show them the coverage of the officially failed coup. They watched the anchors and policy experts discussing it for a couple minutes before Jack said, “He did good.”

“Mission Accomplished.” Albert replied, eyes drifting from the screen to the wooden box that had been sitting on one of the desks in the room.


End file.
